The interpreter shook his head. “She thinks you’re trying to trick her.”
Paolo looked at Denada. “Why do you think that? We simply want you to help us make a likeness of the man you saw. Can you help us do that?”
He looked over at the interpreter who translated Paolo’s words. As Gazmend spoke, Denada stood up, snatched Matthew’s photo from the table and threw it at Paolo, all the time yelling in Albanian. Bewildered, he looked to the interpreter to explain.
“It seems that Denada believes that this man is the man she saw. Not someone like him. Not even someone very close in looks to him, but that man himself. She says she recognised him because she’d seen him on television the night before he picked up her friend. She won’t budge from that.” Gazmend smiled. “I can understand your confusion, Mr Storey. I recognised Matthew Roberts’ photo when I first came in. He does a lot to help minorities in this town, so I have had some contact with him through various committees. He is one of the most decent men I’ve ever met. I don’t envy you having to follow up on this because it is almost certainly a waste of your time. However, Denada insists that Matthew Roberts is the man she saw driving off with her friend.”
Paolo thanked Gazmend for his help and asked Dave to show him and Denada out. They had her details. If necessary they could always bring her back in again. He’d have to pay a visit to Matthew, find out where he was on the night Mandy Ward disappeared, but it wouldn’t be more than a formality surely. One thing was certain though, whoever drove away with Ms Ward must look amazingly like Matthew Roberts.
Paolo was sitting at his desk by the time Dave came back from his escort duty. As he came in, Paolo noticed that Dave’s face was covered in a film of sweat and he was holding himself stiffly, as if his back was painful when he moved. When he sat down gingerly, Paolo was sure the other man was suffering from chronic pain.
“Should you be here, Dave? You’re clearly suffering.”
Dave winced. “I’m fine, sir. What do you make of our witness? She seems pretty convinced.”
Paolo sighed. “I know. I’ve just been trying out a few sentences in my mind, wondering if I can get to the end of even one of them before Matthew Roberts sues me individually and the force as an institution.”
“We have to follow up on it, though, don’t we?” Dave asked, moving as if trying to find a more comfortable position.
Paolo looked through the phone book, then picked up his phone and pressed the numbers. “We sure do,” he said as he listened to the ringing tone. Then he held up a hand to Dave to signal not to speak. “Good morning, could you put me through to Mr Roberts, please. Ah, okay, thank you. I wonder if you would be kind enough to ask him to call me as soon as possible. My name is Storey, Paolo Storey.”
He gave his phone number, said goodbye and snapped the phone shut as he looked over at Dave. “He’s with a client. His secretary will get him to call me back.”
“Okay, I’ve got some paperwork to catch up on. Give me a shout when you need me,” Dave said, getting up with some difficulty and turning to leave.
As Dave moved to the door he shrugged off his suit jacket. Paolo called out for him to wait.
“Dave, what the hell happened to you?” he asked as he hurried round his desk.
Dave stopped in the act of reaching for the door handle. “What do you mean? I told you, I had an accident and I’ve hurt my back. What more do you want to know?”
“It must have been quite some accident,” Paolo said. “Your back is bleeding. The blood has stained your shirt.”
***
Barbara finished the last of her reports and moved the file to one side. She still couldn’t understand why the prostitute killer was deliberately leaving DNA behind. Unless it wasn’t his? Could all of the dead women have been with the same client and the killer stepped in after that? Was there a connection between the killer and whoever was having sex with them before they died? The sexual partner and the killer might not be the same person.
She picked up the phone, but then put it down again. Convincing herself that it would be better to talk to Paolo about this possibility face to face, she left her office.
***
Barbara tapped on Paolo’s open door and went in. He’d been staring into space, but smiled as she sat down.
“Hi, Barbara, what brings you to our building?”
She was taken aback at the sadness in his voice. Studying his eyes as she answered, she was convinced he’d been crying. Whatever he’d been going through over the weekend, it couldn’t have been good. He looked like he was on the brink of a breakdown.
“I came to discuss our latest case with you, but that can wait. Are you okay, Paolo? You look a bit stressed.”
He smiled, stretching the crescent scar on his cheek. “I’m fine, Barbara. Just finding it harder to stop smoking than I’d thought it would be. The patches are working, by the way. Good idea of yours. But I’m struggling over what to do with my hands.”
“Don’t give me that, Paolo. I can see you’re on edge, but if you would rather not talk to me about it, fine. I’ll keep my distance.”
“Sorry, it’s been a bit of a weird day. Dave’s gone off to see his doctor. He had some kind of accident over the weekend and injured his back. It was bleeding, but he refused to go to our doctor on call. Our one and only witness who’s prepared to stand up in court has picked Matthew Roberts as suspect of the month. And we have no other leads, so it’s not been a great start to the week. Anyway, how can I help you?”
Barbara shifted in her seat and leaned forward, resting her forearms on Paolo’s desk. “I’ve been thinking about the DNA left on these girls. It makes no sense, Paolo. Why not wash it off when he’s cleaning up the rest of the body?”
Paolo shook his head. “I agree with you, but we’ve been over this so many times. We’re only going to solve that riddle when we find our killer.”
“But what if the person who ejaculates on the girls isn’t the one who kills them?”
“You think we have some sort of double act? Two people working together? I suppose it’s possible. If that was the case then we might not be limited to looking just at men. In your opinion, could it be a woman who strangles them?”
Barbara mentally reviewed her findings, then shook her head. “No, I’d have to come down on the side of a man as suspect. But what if the two men weren’t working together? What if the killer is tracking the man who gets his kicks from ejaculating on prostitutes?”
Paolo nodded. “Could be. If he’s out to frame someone else, that would at least explain him leaving the evidence on the bodies, nice and easy for us to find.”
Barbara studied Paolo as she got up to leave. Talking about the case had banished the haunted look from his eyes. She wondered whether or not to say anything more. Before she had made her decision, his phone rang.
“Storey. Oh, hello, Matthew. Thanks for calling me back.”
She went to the door and made a farewell gesture with her hand. Paolo nodded and signed that he would call her, but it was clear that his mind had already moved on. She walked away, wondering if he’d even remember she had been there.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Paolo slowed the car outside the luxury block of flats that housed Matthew Roberts’ apartment and followed Dave’s directions to the parking area. They’d gone in Paolo’s car as Dave was clearly still in some discomfort; even though he’d insisted he had nothing more than a few grazes on his back. As Paolo drove into the private yard and located the visitor’s bay that Roberts had told him to look out for, he glanced over at his passenger. Something wasn’t right. It went deeper than his injuries and Paolo found himself feeling more sympathy than he would have believed possible just a few weeks earlier.
He switched off the engine and looked at his watch. They were early. The rush hour traffic had been kind to them for a change and they still had twenty minutes to waste before they met Roberts in his apartment at six.
“So, are you going to tell me h
ow you injured your back?”
The look Dave gave Paolo almost took away the sympathy he’d felt earlier, but he decided to ignore it.
“Come on, Dave. You can’t come in my office with blood seeping through your jacket and not expect me to ask questions.”
“You can ask, but I don’t have to answer,” Dave said, shrugging and then clearly regretting the gesture as a spasm of pain shot across his face.
“Look at you. You can’t even move without it hurting. What the hell happened? You know I’m going to keep asking until you tell me, so you might just as well get it over with.”
“Paolo, it’s none of your damn business, okay?”
“If you’re bleeding over my car seat it’s my business. Look, Dave, I’d like to help if I can. You aren’t happy...”
Dave laughed. “Oh, and you are? You aren’t exactly the picture of ecstasy about the place. So what gives you the right to pry?”
Paolo sighed. “You’re right, Dave. I’m sorry. I should mind my own business. I think trying to fix other people’s problems is easier than dealing with my own. I won’t ask again.”
“I fell down a flight of concrete stairs,” Dave said so quietly that Paolo almost didn’t catch the words.
“What? How? When?”
Dave turned in his seat to face Paolo, grimacing in pain. “It happened last night. I was on my own and got to thinking about things. One thing led to another and I got depressed. Opened a bottle of vodka. Then I decided to go and see Rebecca. Remember you asked about her? Well, I’ve sort of fucked up in that area and I need to try to sort things out. Anyway, I was so totally and absolutely plastered I didn’t even reach my car, thank God. I must have tripped or something because I woke up in the early hours at the bottom of the stairs leading up to my flat. I was shivering with cold but my back felt on fire. I knew I’d grazed it, but I hadn’t realised how badly scraped it was until you pointed out the blood. So that’s my sorry tale. What’s your problem? Or is that private?”
It was Paolo’s turn to shrug. “I know what it’s like to feel depressed enough to want to drink a bottle or two, but I stopped drinking some years back.” Paolo smiled at the knowing look on Dave’s face. “No, I wasn’t an alcoholic. No AA meetings or pledges for me. I just stopped enjoying booze, so gave up drinking it. You asked what my problem is. You were honest with me, so I’ll return the courtesy. My ex-wife is going to marry the man who broke up our marriage. Life’s shit, hey?”
Dave nodded agreement.
“The reason I didn’t go to our doctor on call was because I don’t want this leaking out, Paolo. You will keep it to yourself, won’t you?”
“You didn’t need to ask.”
Paolo felt as though they’d reached some sort of understanding, but wasn’t sure it was strong enough to last. He looked at his watch. “It’s five to six. Let’s go and get yelled at by Matthew Roberts. He is going to love this.”
They climbed from the car, Dave with some difficulty, and headed towards the entrance of the recently redeveloped building. Amazing what they could do with the old factories, Paolo thought. The thought reminded him that he needed to do some flat hunting. Pity his salary didn’t run to this level. They entered into a lobby where a uniformed porter greeted them from behind a security desk.
“We’re here to see Mr Roberts,” Paolo said. “Storey and Johnson.”
The man looked down at his clipboard. “Ah, right, sir, Mr Roberts told me to expect you, but not your colleague. I’ll just need to check with Mr Roberts before I let you both go up.”
He picked up the phone, looked away and spoke briefly, and then turned back to Paolo and Dave. “That seems to be in order. If you could both just sign here, please.” He waited while they complied. “Take the elevator to the penthouse suite. Mr Roberts is waiting for you.”
As they rode up in the elevator Paolo wondered how rich you’d have to be to afford the best apartment in the most upmarket development in town. Very rich indeed, he decided, and then couldn’t make up his mind if he disliked Matthew more because he was clearly so incredibly successful, or just the same amount as he had when they’d been in the same class at school.
The elevator stopped and the door opened. Potted palms and ferns filled the lobby they stepped into. At the end of a short corridor was a single door. It opened and Matthew stood in the frame looking relaxed in casual clothes.
“You must excuse me,” he said, standing to one side to let them in, “but I am going out this evening, so don’t have much time to spare. Could we get to the point nice and quickly, Paolo? You were very mysterious on the phone. I’d supposed it was to do with Katy, but as you’ve brought your sidekick with you, I can only assume it’s police work instead. So, gentlemen, what can I do to help with your enquiries?”
Paolo looked around the spacious lounge and tried not to feel envy. His pokey bedsit would easily fit three times at least in this one room. What Paolo could only assume was expensive modern art adorned the walls, but he felt he could have come up with something similar if he’d attacked a canvass while blindfolded, using only his left hand to daub several brushes simultaneously, each one dipped in a different colour. Oriental rugs covered areas of polished oak floors and side tables held fragile looking porcelain. Matthew waved towards a white leather couch and Paolo took him up on the invitation, sinking into the soft upholstery. Dave settled into one of the two matching armchairs. Matthew positioned himself opposite Paolo in the other armchair.
“Why so serious looking, Paolo? Don’t tell me you’re continuing with your vendetta against Frank? You do know he’s seriously ill in hospital, I assume?”
Paolo nodded. “I saw Maria there. It looks bad for Frank.”
“And you are, no doubt, heartbroken,” Matthew said with a smile that made Paolo want to thump him. Supercilious bastard.
“Not heartbroken at all, just concerned at what sort of war is likely to break out if he dies, but that isn’t why I’m here.” He took a breath and decided to jump right in. “The fact is that someone has put you in the frame for what started out as a missing person’s inquiry.”
Matthew looked amused. “Started out as? What did it finish up as, or is that not yet decided?”
“It’s now a murder inquiry and we have a witness who claims she saw you entice the victim into your car and drive away with her.”
Matthew laughed. “Me? Is this your idea of a joke, Paolo? If it is, I have to tell you I’m not really amused, even though I laughed.”
“Sorry, no, it isn’t a joke. We actually have two independent witnesses who say they saw you pick up a prostitute, Mandy Ward. She has subsequently been murdered.” Paolo took his notebook from his inside pocket and flipped it open. “So, I have to ask you. Where were you on evening of Saturday 23rd March at about...”
Matthew jumped to his feet. “Are you mad? Have you completely lost your mind? Or is this some petty game to get back at me because Katy nearly lost her place at school? And, let me tell you, from what I’ve heard from Greg she may still be out on her ear. Is that what this is about? Some sort of bargaining chip to protect Katy’s place?”
Paolo struggled to keep his temper. In Matthew’s place he’d have been as mad as hell, so wasn’t surprised at his reaction, but he had to do his job.
“Matthew, you know me better than that. This has nothing to do with anything other than two witnesses who both named you as the last person seen with the victim. You’re a solicitor, for God’s sake; you know I have to ask you these questions. You’re not above the law just because you practice it.”
Matthew sat down again, but he looked as though the slightest word or action could make him explode. Glaring at Paolo, he nodded for him to continue with his questions.
“Where were you on...”
“I was here, all evening, on my own. I hadn’t been feeling well, so went to bed early and read. I can tell you the name of the book if that helps.”
Paolo smiled, but refused to rise to Matthew’s
goading. “Any phone calls during the evening? Anyone who can vouch for you being here? What about your man downstairs?”
“You can ask him on the way out, but all he’ll be able to tell you is that he didn’t see me go out.”
“I know,” Paolo agreed, “but that’s better for you than him saying he did see you go out, isn’t it?”
Matthew seemed to calm down. “Look, Paolo, let’s make this easy for both of us. How reliable would you say your witnesses are?”
“That’s a strange question, Matthew. What do you want me to say to that? I’m hardly likely to be here if I felt I could disprove what they’d said.”
Matthew looked at his watch. “I need to leave in about five minutes. Let’s wrap this up, shall we? What have you got in the way of fingerprints and DNA?”
Paolo smiled. “Now you know I can’t answer that. Why do you want to know?”
“If you have any physical evidence then it’s the easiest thing in the world for me to prove I had nothing to do with your victim. If you have the killer’s DNA then I’ll give you a sample. If you have fingerprints then you can compare them to mine. So, I’ll ask again, do you have any physical evidence?”
Paolo nodded. “No fingerprints, but we have DNA.”
Matthew stood up. “Look, I’m sorry I went off at you. As a solicitor, I know you have to follow up when someone points at a suspect, but it felt very different to be on the end of that pointing finger than it does when I’m advising a client. I’ll come by tomorrow and let your people take a mouth swab.” He held out a hand. “Let’s shake on a truce. We can’t have old St Swithins’ boys at loggerheads, now can we?”
Paolo hesitated, but took Matthew’s hand. For some reason he was convinced he’d been played for a fool, but couldn’t quite figure out how. As Matthew gripped his hand, Paolo looked into the other man’s eyes and saw such hatred that he almost fell backwards. Matthew tightened his grip as Paolo attempted to pull away.
“And while I’m there giving my swab and being a good citizen I’ll drop in to see Chief Constable Willows. I shall have a lot to say to him about your exemplary zeal in following up on leads – especially when it gives you the opportunity to get back at those you have it in for.”
Bad Moon Rising (#1 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series) Page 15
